


Square Meal

by stewardess



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-12
Updated: 2005-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perseph2hades's <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/re_perseph/7322.html?format=light">Doc/Winters fic</a> gave me a bunny for a Winnix First-Time Makeup Sex story. Set during <em>Crossroads</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Square Meal

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by perseph2hades.

**Mourmelon, France. December 10, 1944.**

"Back from Paris already?" Lew managed to say it breezily.

"Yeah, I missed writing reports for Colonel Sink." Dick sounded genuinely breezy as he walked to his desk. His step was fast and light and there was a small secret smile on his face.

Why had Lew given Doc the weekend pass for Paris when he could have used it himself?

He was an idiot.

* * *

Six days later, Lew was walking with Sergeant Lipton past Easy's barracks when they heard a noise like a train smashing into a building. They rushed inside and found the interior of the barracks reduced to splinters.

"Have you men been drinking?" Lipton shouted.

"Just French soda pop, sir," Martin said, apparently oblivious of his bloody nose. "Shit. Is that a nail in my foot?"

Lew picked up one of the empty bottles that littered the barracks. "You clowns! This is French champagne that costs twenty dollars a bottle!"

"So that's why it tasted good," Guarnere said.

"Get this cleaned up by morning, starting now!" Lipton bellowed.

As much as he was enjoying Lipton's first-ever temper tantrum, Lew headed to battalion HQ. It was 2200, Saturday night, and Dick would be there alone; all of the other officers in 2d Battalion were on leave in Paris or in England.

He found Dick manning the radio.

"Dick, why don't you lie down and get some rest? I'll be up late anyway."

"That's all right, Nix." Dick looked at him with the awkwardness that had crept between them in the last few days.

"Come on, Dick. Two hours on, two hours off. We'll take turns."

"Okay, Nix."

"By the way. Be sure not to make any loud noises tomorrow morning. Easy found a couple of cases of champagne and drank it all. They thought it was pop."

Dick didn't even smile.

"Lipton's handling the aftermath," Lew added.

He watched Dick walk to a cot in a curtained alcove. The spring in Dick's step after his two days in Paris had disappeared; he seemed to be glum, almost morose. Lew found the change deeply disturbing. He couldn't get through the war without Dick-as-usual: cheerful yet pragmatic, like Pollyanna, if she had been good at killing Krauts.

Lew sat by the radio and fought to stay awake. He really needed to get to bed early for once, but there was no one to delegate the task to. Only a few were familiar with the hundreds of code words required to make sense of the transmissions.

Two hours passed but he didn't wake Dick up. There were scattered reports from Belgium, where a German company or two were on the move. Nothing important.

It was five hours later, three in the morning, when he heard that the German activity in Belgium was shaping up into something ominous. All passes were cancelled. But there was nothing more. No orders.

Still, he would have to wake Dick up. He went into the alcove and shook his shoulder.

Dick sat up and looked at him. "What time is it?"

"Three. All passes are cancelled. Something going on in Belgium. Haven't heard another peep. I'll give Ike a call in the morning."

Dick put his feet on the floor. He had removed his boots but nothing else. "All passes cancelled, and we don't know why."

"Yeah," Lew said. He sat on the cot next to Dick and unlaced his boots. "Good thing you made it to Paris _last_ weekend."

Dick turned to look at him, watching as Lew tugged his boots off.

"Got a problem with that, Nix?" Dick said.

"With what? The passes being cancelled?"

"Me going to Paris."

"I gave you the pass myself, Dick. Why the hell would you think I had a problem with it?"

"Because you've been quite a trial this last week, Nix."

"What did _I_ do? I haven't done anything."

Dick sighed. "Did you give a pass to Doc?"

Lew had his boots off at last. He wiggled his toes. "I don't want to discuss it right now. It's time to go to bed."

"Why'd you do it, Nix?"

They were going to discuss it anyway.

"I hoped afterwards you would talk about something other than Doc for a change. I have to sleep now. Don't wake me up by dumping piss all over me. Thank you for your cooperation."

Dick seemed to be thinking. That was fine, but he stayed put on the cot, preventing Lew from lying down. That was not fine.

"Lew. Have you ever wanted a fantastic dessert, then realized afterwards what you really needed was a square meal?"

"Like roast beef and potatoes? That would hit the spot. Anything to eat around here?"

"Mutton and cabbage."

"Jesus. Okay. How much is there?"

Dick put on his boots, got off the cot, and disappeared into a scullery. He came back moments later, setting up a small portable burner to heat the slop. When it was steaming, he dished it out into large tin bowls with handles. They ate it while sitting on the cot. There was some fresh bread to go with it, which made it bearable.

When they finished, Dick removed the mess to the scullery. Lew stretched out on the cot at last. He took a sip of VAT 69 from his hip flask, using the whiskey to rinse out his mouth. Dick came back and sat on the edge of the cot.

They listened to the radio crackle, but there was nothing new.

"So we're moving out again," Lew said.

"Yeah," Dick said. "You should have gone to Paris, like everybody else."

"Don't want to see it. Saw it before the war. It must be a smoking wreck."

"They've had six months to clean it up."

"Yeah, but we're talking about the French, Dick."

"It's all right. The Canucks took on the job."

Lew laughed. He needed to laugh now as much as possible. Every time they moved out, it was to some place worse.

"You didn't answer my question, Nix."

"Which one?"

"Any of them."

"So you had dessert in Paris? Crème brulee, probably. Flaming brandy on top. Nice. Fattening."

Lew poked a finger into Dick's stomach, just above the belt. His finger came to a stop as abruptly as if he had poked wood. Dick was definitely not flabby. He did it again.

"You have to warm the brandy first," Lew said. Crap. He was babbling.

"What?"

"Else it won't light. That's the secret."

"I'll keep that in mind. When did you last sleep, Lew?"

"Yesterday. Day before yesterday, I mean."

"Burning the candle at both ends. You know what that gets you."

"Short candles?" His finger finally went somewhere. Dick's bellybutton.

"You can't joke your way out of this," Dick said.

_I can joke my way out of anything_, Lew thought. The last three years had been proof of that.

Dick was looking at him as if Lew was about to turn into a puff of smoke and disappear. It was the same way Dick had looked at him after he had nearly got shot through the head in Holland. He knew what it meant. Dick was about to confess. He'd beat him to the punch.

"What did you do in Paris, Dick?"

"Had sex with Eugene. Wasn't that your plan?"

Lew curled his fingers around Dick's belt. "Oh, yeah. That was my plan. How was it?"

Had it been his plan? Maybe it had. If someone was going to get turned down, let it be Doc. Except Doc hadn't been turned down. Talk about a fuckup.

"Fantastic," Dick said.

Lew let go of Dick's belt. He'd established that Dick was not fat from eating crème brulee. No reason to keep poking him in the belly.

"But not enough," Dick added.

"Then you should have stayed in Paris longer," Lew said.

"Sometimes, Lew, you're as dense as Lieutenant Peacock." Dick stood up and pulled the curtain closed, then sat on the cot. He unbuckled Lew's belt and unbuttoned his fly. He pushed Lew's shirt and undershirt up to his armpits and slowly stroked his stomach.

"That's my stomach," Lew said.

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Yeah, when I fall asleep."

Dick bent over and kissed his chest slowly and wetly, his hands pushing down Lew's pants.

Ever since Dick had said he'd had sex with Eugene, Lew had been wondering, with no more curiosity than a four-year-old on Christmas morning, just what they had done. He was going to get a demonstration. He gripped the sides of the cot so he wouldn't flail and bit his lip so he wouldn't babble.

Dick pulled off his boots, then knelt over him, his knees on either side of Lew. Then he leaned down and kissed Lew on the mouth.

No longer in danger of babbling, Lew let go of the cot and locked his hands on Dick's arms. He realized with mild interest that he had forgotten everything that had happened in the last hour or so. Curious. And he wasn't even drunk. How had they got to this point? He couldn't remember.

Dick was tugging at him. He sat up and let Dick pull off his clothing. He held onto the cot while Dick took off everything of his own but his dogtags. His were still on, too. Taking them off was bad luck. Absolutely guaranteed you'd get whacked and that no one would ever be sure you were dead.

"Lew. Move."

Lew shifted until Dick was lying underneath him. Oh Christ. He was going to babble again. Dick reached into the pile of mingled clothing on the floor and pulled out a tin of vegetable shortening, then matter-of-factly rubbed the grease on Lew.

Lew felt his eyes cross so hard his toes cramped. It would be a blessing if all he did was babble. He was going to start shrieking. Dick maneuvered Lew between his spread legs and began guiding him down. Lew bit his tongue as the head of his cock brushed hot slippery flesh.

"Oh Christ Dick!" he wailed.

"Hang on a second, Lew." Dick moved under him.

Lew slid in. He blasted out a few breaths he hadn't realized he had been holding. He was going to stay very still for a moment. Thankfully Dick was staying very still, patting his back.

He was going to get through this without embarrassing himself. Then Dick grabbed his hips. There was no mistaking that push-pull motion. Abruptly, everything was okay. All he had to do was not stop until Dick told him to stop. Hell, he could do better than that. But not on this fucking cot.

"Get on the floor," Lew said.

They tumbled off. Dick grabbed the bedding. They kicked at the sheets and blankets, spreading them over the rough boards, then got back into position. This time, Lew didn't need any help to make it in. He looked at Dick's face and froze for a moment. Dick was looking at him _like that_. It was all right this time. He'd fuck Dick senseless and then see what kind of expression he had afterwards.

He was building up steam, establishing a good rhythm. Hard. Fast. Deep. If he overlooked his nonstop whimpering, he was performing impressively. Also had to overlook his shaking. Still, it beat shrieking. That would come later.

Dick had his mouth open as if he was shouting, but there wasn't any sound.

He felt Dick's hand between them, and then Dick was shuddering, the top of his head hitting Lew's chin with each jolt. Lew waited until he settled down, kissed him, then did some shuddering of his own. As soon as he could move again, they quickly got their uniforms back on and re-made the cot. Only then could they collapse on it, resting in each other's arms.

Cautiously, Lew touched Dick's face, his strong chin, his smooth lips. "You feeling all right?"

"Yeah. Not hungry, Lew," Dick said. He smiled, his fingers in Lew's hair.

He was Dick-as-usual again. Lew sighed with relief.

"After the war, if there is an after--" Lew said.

"Not this again."

"No matter where we end up--"

"Can it, Lew."

_We'll be there together._


End file.
